please, break me
by cheaterinpink
Summary: "I've wanted you to break me since the moment I met you." looking back, he can't remember his life before she entered it. maybe that's because he doesn't want to. Damon/Katherine.


**Please, break me**

_Summary_: "I've wanted you to break me since the moment I met you." Looking back, he can't remember his life before she entered it. Maybe that's because he doesn't want to. Damon/Katherine.

_He loves the way she is – messed up, broken. He can't imagine it any other way. He feels blessed every single day because he knows had she not _become_ the evil, fucked up shell she used to pretend to be, he would be destroyed and irrevocably unrepairable._

He stares through his glass of Bourbon at the flickering flames, watching them ebb and die, and then spring up again. Every few seconds, he moves his fingers an inch into the flames, holding them there despite the pain, because of the pain. He's fascinated by the way his skin blackens, crumbles, falls away in ashes, and fascinated by the fact that he can still beat the fire.

He loves the way it hurts.

He can hear her move to sit beside him, her hand gliding out to cover his in the flames. Together, they watch the fire helpless against their will, the burning hotness serving to mask their eternal coldness.

When they get bored, they pull away. He tosses the glass into the fire, hearing it explode. Katherine pulls herself onto his lap.

"I killed seven people today. A girl and the rest, guys," she states proudly, inhaling his clean scent and playing with his hair. Slowly lowering her head to nestle on his shoulder, she murmurs, "The girl was too insecure for her own good."

"You took her boyfriend down an alley?" He traces a line of ice down her side.

She bristles under his gaze. She hates that he knows her too well for her to be unpredictable anymore. In retaliation, she nips his skin.

He takes that as a yes. He smiles so faintly she almost doesn't catch it.

"I beat you by two. One was Sheriff Forbes. Finally."

She raises her head in curiosity. "How'd she find out you were a vampire?"

"She didn't," he answers cryptically, which only serves to annoy her. She narrows her eyes at him.

"You did it for fun?" she asks incredulously.

His gaze meets her squarely. "She found out there were two Elenas running around town. Found out one of them was actually Katherine from the infamous 1864 incident."

She wants to slap him. "If I wanted to be taken care of, I'd have taken Stefan."

He doesn't even flinch.

"That bitch is dead," she snarls, testing. He picks up quickly that she's referencing Elena, not Mystic Falls' head of police.

"Leave her alone," he mutters, because he doesn't want Stefan sulking and moaning like a girl on her period to his face.

"Don't ever go back down that road," she snaps, and he knows immediately they're both thinking of the time he fell under Elena's spell. In moments like this, with his lover beside him, scratching bleeding holes down his back, he can't imagine why and how he could have forgotten 1864.

"I wouldn't hurt you that way," he replies, without affection, swiftly pinning her down and bruising her lips with his as his hands grab hers. She, surprisingly, gently wraps her legs around his hips, pulling him closer. They can feel the pain and the fire coming on and they welcome it.

"You did, once," she reminds him when he breaks away to line her jaw and slender neck with harsh, romantic kisses.

He could growl back that she'd left him alone for a hundred and forty five years uncaringly. That she only started to love him a hundred and fifty years after they met and he fell. He would tell her all that, of course, if he wanted to be insecure.

But Damon Salvatore doesn't do insecure.

Instead, he plunges his fangs into her neck, blood veins running down his face, loving the way her blood tastes and loving the way she squirms beneath him, for his benefit, and makes small sounds a mix of pain and ultimate pleasure, because she can't help it. She sighs into his hair, wrestling her hands from his grip to sink her nails into his shoulders. He laughs a little.

When they're done and have fallen back against the sofa, he stares at her tired face, triumphant and loving. He drags her hand adoringly to his lips, softly kissing it all over, and she watches him silently. The flames whip and crack in the background.

She lets him pretend to be someone else for a little while, sometimes. Sometimes because she wants to be someone else for a little while too.

**Fin.**

_a/n: very very OOC. for one, katherine doesn't love damon. two, damon isn't THAT masochistic._  
_:)_


End file.
